06/27/2025
As a Black man, I don’t just get dressed—I suit up.
Every day, I put on armor.
Not the kind you see in movies.
Mine looks like a well-rehearsed smile, a lowered tone of voice, a pause before I respond.
It sounds like “yes sir” when I want to say “why?”
It feels like silence when my soul wants to scream.
I wear strength, because softness is mistaken for weakness.
I wear calm, because anger could cost me my freedom.
I wear success, so no one questions if I belong.
I wear pride, but Lord knows—some days I’m just tired.
This armor is invisible to most.
But heavy to carry.
I’m not sharing this for sympathy.
I’m sharing this because there’s power in naming what we endure.
And because some of us are out here learning how to take the armor off—piece by piece—and still feel safe.
To my brothers who get it: I see you.
To those who don’t: ask before you judge.
To everyone: give us room to be whole.